Archives for May 2015

Last weekend, I went to my friend Jenn Marie Nunes’ book release party. Feminist press Switchback Books had awarded her poetry manuscript, And/Or, its inaugural Queer Voices prize. Jenn read her funny, weird, enigmatic poems at the event, which was hosted by a community print shop. Plates of cheese and cookies and a cash bar were wedged between printing presses with greasy black teeth. A lot of awesome people I hadn’t seen in a long time were there, as well as some whose names I’d heard before but whose acquaintances I’d never made.

One was an English professor. A friend introduced me to her as editor of a monthly fashion section.

“Oh, I read that from time to time,” she said. “It’s my guilty pleasure.”

She smiled brightly. I didn’t detect any malice in her words. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

I’m truly flattered when anyone reads my writing. But I wondered — would she describe Jenn’s book of poetry as a guilty pleasure? I kind of doubt it. Hovering over a platter of deviled eggs, I thought, What makes Jenn’s literary mode of production valid and mine not? I’m defining valid here as acceptable public reading material for an academic. I’ve been holding the professor’s words up to the light, examining them, and though there are plenty of things to unpack from her statement, I’m not sure compliment is among them.

To back up a little: I work at an alt-weekly covering primarily fashion, beauty and interior decor — in other words, women’s sections. My beat falls under what theOpEd Project defines as “pink topics.”

‘Pink’ topics are the topical spheres that compose what some media critics refer to as the ‘pink ghetto’ because women have historically been confined within them. We’ve defined a Pink Topic as: 1.) anything that falls into what was once known as “the four F’s”: food, family, furniture, and fashion, 2.) women-focused subject matter, e.g. woman-specific health or culture, 3.) gender / women’s issues, or 4.) a profile of a woman or her work in which her gender is a significant issue of the piece.

The OpEd Project goes on to clarify, “We don’t consider ‘pink’ topics any less important than general topics.” And as much as I want to agree with that statement, deep down inside, I’m not sure I do. I don’t cover political scandals or civil wars in distant countries. I sometimes describe my work to others, self-deprecatingly, as “fluff.” I feel, you could say, “guilty,” for working in the pink ghetto, devoting so much time to tracking bridal gown trends and sunless tanning methods. It’s similar to the breed of guilt that makes me want to hide my astrology and self-help books behind the literary theory books I haven’t cracked open since my graduate proseminar.

When I dropped out of LSU’s comparative literature program in 2008, I did so because I wanted my words to be read by as many people as possible. (Typical writers’ hubris.) I didn’t see that happening in academia. I saw myself spending years to write a dissertation that would probably only be read by my committee and a few really good friends. Then I’d pen scholarly articles that would be locked behind JSTOR’s paywall. So I changed course. Now I write about fashion, and I write dark fantasy novels for teenage girls. And I guess both of those things could be considered guilty pleasures. Why? Because they are commercial endeavors aimed at mass audiences? Because they are feminine pleasures? Men don’t consider sports or hunting guilty pleasures. These traditionally masculine pursuits are simply pleasures.

I can’t help but think these “guilty pleasures” are linked toward shame of being a woman, or shame of belonging to a social class with less emphasis on/access to higher education. And neither of those are bad things. Everyone at that book launch would most likely denounce the sexist and classist rhetoric that says otherwise.

So I’ll be damned if it wasn’t a surprise to confront shame’s greasy specter adrift in a room of women writers celebrating a feminist poetry collection. Almost as much as a surprise as it was to find I harbor it myself.

WHAT’RE YOU DOING STARING AT A BLANK NOTEBOOK YOU’RE ON DEADLINE DAMMIT

Nobody wants to blow a deadline. But sometimes it happens. And whether it’s your fault (you completely forgot) or someone else’s (a key source wouldn’t return your calls), there’s a right and a wrong way to handle it. After five years as a special sections editor atGambit Weekly, I’ve had plenty of freelancers blow deadlines … and blown a few myself. Here are some dos and don’ts when it comes to mitigating the damage.

DO tell your editor ASAP if you’re running into problems. The more notice you give editors, the more help they can give you. Your editor might be able to extend your deadline or tweak your assignment. Just remember, your editor is on your side and wants you to succeed, if for no other reason than if you don’t, she’s stuck doing your work for you at the eleventh hour. WHICH REALLY SUCKS.

Don’t go into needless detail. If you’re having a personal crisis, keep the details to yourself. It’s appropriate to say something like, “I’ve had a death in the family and must travel to attend the funeral,” but editors do not need to hear more than that. Same thing regarding technical difficulties. That’s your problem, not your editor’s, so don’t burden him with it. Frankly, if a freelancer uses technical difficulties as an excuse with me, I immediately write him off as someone who doesn’t know how to use Google drive or library computers.

Apologize for your mistake. In the print world especially, deadlines are very real and not at all flexible. Assume that by missing yours, you have upset the delicate balance that prevents chaos from raining down on the head of your frail, overworked editor, and apologize accordingly. No buts or pity-seeking. Simplicity is best. “I messed up, and I apologize.” Follow up by asking, “How can I make this better?” Which brings us to the next tip.

Offer solutions. If you couldn’t get an interview with the source your editor requested, have a back-up source ready to go. If you forgot an assignment, offer to forego food and sleep until it’s done. Show your willingness to repair your mistake, and you might repair the relationship. I messed up an assignment earlier this year…I was careless, misread it and wrote up one interview when the feature was supposed to include three. You can bet this inconvenienced my editor. I ended up scrambling to redo the feature at the last minute, which sucked, but sometimes you have no choice.

After the dust settles, lay low for a while. You just burned your editor pretty bad. Now is not the time to ask if you’re blackballed or request future assignments. It’s possible your editor might want to cut ties. But if you have a productive working relationship with this person and a history of turning in good work on time, your editor may see fit to work with you again. Just let him do it on his terms. If you do get another assignment, turn it in early, with much gratitude. Your editor just gave you a second chance, and that’s no small thing.